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@¨@@@¨¨¨@@ I Follow The Tire Tracks West. They Go ¨¨@¨¨@@@@¨
@@¨¨@¨¨@¨@ Parallel With The Railroad, With Its ¨@@¨@¨¨¨@@
¨@¨@@¨@@@¨ Endless Mirrors Looking Kinda Oily. An @¨@@@¨¨@¨¨
@@@¨@@¨¨@@ Incredible Power Bound There... There'S @@¨¨@¨@@¨¨
¨¨@@¨@¨@¨¨ A Wire Fence To Separate The Two Roads. ¨@¨@@@¨@¨@
¨@¨@@@@@¨¨ @@@¨¨@@@@@
@@@¨¨¨¨@¨¨ Even Though There'S A Foggy Quality To ¨¨@¨@¨¨¨¨@
¨¨@¨¨¨@@¨¨ The Air, The Path I Follow Is Glowing. ¨@@@@¨¨¨@¨
¨@@¨¨@¨@¨@ A Yellow-Green Moss Has Taken Hold @¨¨¨@¨¨@@¨
@¨@¨@@@@@@ Where The Machines Who Made These @¨¨@@¨@¨@¨
@@@@¨¨¨¨¨¨ Tracks Once Disturbed The Clover Field. @¨@¨@@@@@@
¨¨¨@¨¨¨¨¨@ @@@@¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨@@¨¨¨¨@@ We'Re Off The Season When The Birds ¨¨¨@¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨@¨@¨¨¨@¨@ Sing Beautifully. These Days It'S Just ¨¨@@¨¨¨¨¨¨
@@@@¨¨@@@¨ Screeches, Or Calls For Help. ¨@¨@¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨@¨@¨¨@@ @@@@¨¨¨¨¨@
¨¨@@@@¨@¨¨ I Think Of The Jackdaw I Maimed ¨¨¨@¨¨¨¨@@
¨@¨¨¨@@@¨@ Yesterday. I Fear The Dreaming gate. ¨¨@@¨¨¨@¨@
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